


Anthesis

by WET_NOODLES



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: A good contender for the worst thing you'll read today, Bathing/Washing, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Post-Game, Severa Amie except it's her vagina, Skinship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WET_NOODLES/pseuds/WET_NOODLES
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I treasure every moment that passes as if it were our last.</i>
</p>
<p>Two wanderers take refuge in a remote mountain inn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anthesis

**Author's Note:**

> MY THERAPIST: But if this is causing you so much shame, grief, and utterly brutal self-ownage, then why, er, "crosspost" it from this "tumblr blog"?  
> ME, CRADLING EMPTY TISSUE BOX IN MY LAP: The Lucina/Severa tag on Archive of Our Own... it's too mother fucking small...!

Chon'sin fragrances might have been the only part of Valm she’d missed. Another Severa, one with a full belly and two pieces of gold to rub together, would have cleaned out the bathhouse’s stock and never looked back. They’d at least earned their keep for the night, and they could pretend, for a time, that they hadn’t been trying to stretch their hardtack for another day.

Candlelight glittered against jars of dark lavender stalks, suspended in their amber nectar. Severa hunched her shoulders forward, shuddering from the rolling trail of oil from her scalp to her neck.

“Ugh, I’m never going to get the smell out, am I? We might as well quit while we’re ahead.” The last time she’d met a Risen hand-to-hand had been in their Future, before she’d started sleeping with a weapon in hand. Peacetime made her sloppy, and neither of them had a mind to watch for marauding hellspawn near the Demon’s Ingle. Given the name, perhaps it was their own grave oversight.

“What is it with Risen and hot springs anyway? At least they didn’t make it to the water this time… but Gods, we went in after them, didn’t we?”

Lucina hummed absently, wholly absorbed in her work. Severa winced as her companion undid the ties in her unruly mane, fanning it over the curve of her back. Severa glanced back to find Lucina with a twig she’d plucked from her hair, examining it almost fondly.

“They were mean times,” Lucina agreed, gently turning Severa’s head forward again. At least she was listening. She folded Severa’s hair into a loose plait and let it fall over one shoulder, leaving her back exposed and oddly chilled in this air. The oil came next, kneaded into her aching muscles. Severa leaned into the touch, giving a small, embarrassing whine of contentment.

“You know,” she stammered, “I bet you could make a living out of this! See if the innkeep’s in the market for a live-in masseuse.”

Another hum, and Lucina moved on to the backs of her arms. She was almost too professional, the way she went about it. To be sure, the wayfaring mercenary life had begun to take its toll on the both of them, and rarely did passion make for a sensible travel companion. Severa thought to the uneven tan on Lucina’s face, from the simple mask she wore to conceal her mark, to the mats in her hair, having endured for so long unwashed. She could only pray that little Princess Lucina grew to fathom the luxuries her second self had abandoned.

All the same, it wouldn’t have hurt for this Lucina to indulge herself every once in a while.

“But it’d mean I can’t have this all for myself,” Severa continued. “And there’d be those gross people who’d try to take advantage of it. I guess I wouldn’t care if it was, like, the old lady who runs this place.”

On second thought, even the elderly weren’t safe patrons—and it was a stroke of Severa’s all too common, wretched misfortune that she would think about Old Hubba when Lucina’s attention moved to her breasts. She breathed in harshly, gripping Lucina’s hands reflexively.

“Oh, wow, um… hi.”

“… Do you feel as though I’ve been neglecting you?” Lucina’s question came as a breath on the shell of her ear, hot and moist as the steam diffuse around them. Her breasts spilled out between Lucina’s long fingers, working the flesh with a languor as slow as dripping honey. Severa flushed darkly, thinking to the old little innkeep who had shown them such gracious hospitality, and prayed to whatever god who would listen that she had gone to bed. She arched her chest forward, pressing into the touch, and earned a low, infuriating chuckle from Lucina.

A little softer, she said, “Please don’t take my insensibility for coolness. I treasure every moment that passes as if it were our last, and I will not be blinded to my own good fortune—“

“Gods, would you quit it with the monologue?” Moments ago she might have said it fondly, or with her tempered edge that cut like the dull blades they carried in their travels—but Severa was growing impatient.

“I’m not some weepy fisher’s wife… waiting for her… ah.” Her words dissolved into a breathless gasp as Lucina’s mouth and tongue and teeth found the hollow of her throat. “I-I mean, what’s this all about?”

“Hm?” Lucina pulled away, and Severa quelled her sudden urge to shove Lucina under the bathwater.

“I didn’t say you could stop! I just—”

“I was afraid I’d misread something.” Lucina wrapped her arms around Severa’s middle, pulling her into a fast embrace, close enough that she could feel Lucina’s breasts pressed firm against her back. “Was that not what you wanted?”

It was an exasperating quirk of Lucina’s character, and the worst part was the profound earnestness of it all—how she asked Severa to put every fleeting, ignoble fancy of hers to words, not even for the thrill of it, but to… _accommodate_ her.Severa was neither too proud of how readily she indulged her.

“I did! I mean… gods. I do,” she started, and swallowed back the dryness in her throat. “Want it.”

The same hands from before were tracing idle circles over Severa’s arms, her muscles going lax at Lucina’s touch, and then tensing again at her next words:

“I really want it, too.”

The slap of churning water rang loud in Severa’s ears as she was pushed against the edge of the bath. She propped herself up by the elbows, braced against the damp stone floor as Lucina forced her legs apart, massaging the perfumed oil into the backs of her thighs. Fingers worked into her with the same sudden urgency, the familiar burning stretch that faded into a darker craving.

She might have sighed out something inane and witless like  _“_ _Gods, Lucina,”_ some wretched plea for relief, but Lucina had already seized her by the chin for a wolfish kiss. Lucina’s tongue passed into her mouth and Severa’s wits at last caught up to her senses; she’d been wound around Lucina at both ends, sinking into the kiss and lifting her hips desperately into Lucina’s palm. Awareness surfaced in a hazed procession, one sensation blurring into the next like a drunken fantasy—the heft of her damp, plaited hair swaying as she plied herself over Lucina’s slick fingers; the night’s meal on Lucina’s breath, a fat, glistening roasted fowl; Severa’s own feeble moans as Lucina kissed her chin, and then her shoulder, and then the back of her neck. Something in her motions struck Severa as discordant, a gesture so gentle to be absurd, while she was exposing herself like a cat in heat. Lucina pressed her more insistently, finding a steady rhythm, but it was her voice that eventually ruined Severa.

“There, that’s it.” With a muted sob, Severa buried her face into one of her arms as they gave way beneath her. “Just like that.”

Lucina slowed, but she lingered inside Severa, working her open with the same deftness of her earlier massage. Every fiber of Severa’s muscles came undone against the touch, drenched and loosened like a rain lily in bloom; her eyes screwed shut as a finger traced its way up the arc of her spine, coming to rest on her tailbone.

After a moment, Lucina said, “On your back.” There was a beat of uncertainty, and she withdrew. “I want to see your face.”

Severa groaned in equal parts humiliation and desire.

“Believe me, you don’t,” she said, her voice almost alien in its quaver, and then she complied, a mongrel baring its belly to its master.

Lucina’s hair fell around them like a heavy curtain, her soiled fingers heedlessly stroking Severa’s cheek.

“What an odd thing to say,” Lucina murmured, the droplets from her hair mingling with the sweat on Severa’s chest. “You’re always so beautiful—especially like this.”

No matter how many times she repeated it, it would always catch Severa off guard. She would never have a response primed to break Lucina’s perfect composure, and not for want of trying. It would have been easier to toss her mane and sniff in agreement, and easier still to dismiss it as empty flattery, to feel secure in the knowledge that next to Lucina, next to the lodestar of a blighted future, she was less than nothing. But to feel  _wanted_? To have the unbidden attention of someone breathing, warm, real? She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

In a desperate bid to see her princess falter, Severa rolled her head just slightly to the side, catching two of Lucina’s fingers in her mouth. It wasn’t as unpleasant as she’d feared, with the lavender cutting whatever pungency her taste might have held. Her satisfaction wasn’t to last.

“Beautiful,” repeated Lucina, smoothing a stray hair behind Severa’s ear and looking, for all the world, the portrait of sereneness—like Emmeryn, Severa realized, before shaking off the thought.

“Will you knock it off?! I heard you the first time.”

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to, until you believe me.”

It was hideously cliched, and coming from anyone else, Severa would have laughed them out of bed. But the warmth in Lucina’s voice and the naked sincerity in Lucina’s expression was becoming too much to face, and Severa turned her head away.

“Yeah, well… can you just get on with it?” She wasn’t sure what would have been worse: sounding unappreciative, or desperate. By the laughing response, she must have seemed the latter.

“Did you have something in mind?” Before Severa could respond, Lucina was already backing away, the tips of her hair dragging a slithering path down Severa’s chest. Severa’s hand found the back of Lucina’s head, lazily guiding her below her navel.

“Anything,” she sighed, rolling her stomach up to meet Lucina’s slow, methodical kisses, while all the warmth in her body pooled back between her legs. Every part of her felt too huge, too leaden, for her body—the swollen knot of nerves warmed by Lucina’s breath; her leg crooked over Lucina’s shoulder as her fingers glided down its underside, arriving finally to the shock of curls at her groin; her hand as she absently touched herself, before Lucina squeezed it in hers.

“Here, let’s…” Water lapped at the backs of Severa’s thighs as Lucina readjusted, boosting her onto the ledge of the bath. It reminded her of those pastoral scenes of river nymphs seducing a trembling, virginal ingenue, and she supposed she could play the part. Her eyes fell over the crown of dark hair between her thighs. Water rolled down Lucina’s skin in rivulets, except for her fingers, which gleamed with a fresh coat of oil. Folding over to brace herself against Lucina’s shoulders, Severa watched as two fingers pushed inside her, tried to hold her legs bowed open in a wordless invitation. Their princess, their Exalt, their hero, their guiding light—Severa wanted to drink in every ounce of her until there was nothing left for this cosmic fraud of a timeline that cast them aside when they ceased to be useful. Severa chased her lips as Lucina pulled away, molding Severa around the thrust of her arm and mouthing the sweat-slick undersides of her breasts. Another finger pressed against the swollen flesh drawn tight over Lucina’s knuckles, and Severa whimpered into her clasped hands. The eyes peering up at her gleamed with fondness, or maybe pity, or concern, and Lucina spoke low to her like she was a pegasus balking at its master’s hand.

“Take a bit more for me,” she said, nudging Severa’s hair back with her nose. “Just like that, love.”

The best Severa could manage was a shaky “yeah,” and though she knew what was coming, it had been long enough that the anticipation had her wound tighter than he act itself. It didn’t bear saying aloud—that she would take as much of Lucina as Lucina would give, hold fast to her until their flesh would meld and only another coming of Grima himself could tear her away. It felt as though the whole of her body, flesh and bones and fat and all, was boiling down into a single nerve, pulled taut over the bend of Lucina’s thumb as her cunt strained around that widest point of resistance. In those moments, Lucina felt enormous, and in those moments Severa could convince herself that nobody else was fit for the task, to accommodate Lucina, fit around Lucina and be filled by Lucina, to have every twitch and flex of Lucina’s fingers light the senses along the burning coil of muscles hidden deep inside her, to be bound to Lucina wherever she pushed and circled her quaking hips. She watched in amazement as Lucina’s hand disappeared to the wrist, like this was some great accomplishment, like it was hard to believe that it was twin to the hand petting her hair, patiently working her braid apart so that it fanned over her shoulders. The tears caught in Severa’s lashes scattered the dim candlelight across the fringes of her vision,  and she hated herself for how attentively Lucina thumbed away the moisture at the corner of her eye, kissing either side of her mouth, her face drawn close enough for Severa to make out the furrows of concern in her brow. (Thankfully she knew better than to stop—Severa wasn’t prepared for another fumbling conversation about discerning her dramatics from genuine distress.) Her fingers tightened over the snarls of Lucina’s hair as she sank down, between her breasts, leaving a lingering kiss over the curve of her belly and finally settling between her legs, and the drag of her tongue became too much to bear. Some inner well of Severa’s restraint gave way, and the moment drew out into a mortifying crawl; her thighs seized violently as she cried into her cupped palms, and she lost command of her body as though it was never hers to begin with. A clear streak of come glittered over Lucina’s cheek, and another joined it with Severa’s next heaving shudder, twisting herself loose and hollow over Lucina’s touch. She groaned and sprawled backwards with Lucina still lodged inside her and considered maybe feigning sleep, to avoid looking anyone in the eye for the rest of the night. There was a residual, sopping pleasure as Lucina gingerly pulled out, but it was immediately replaced by a rush of cold as Severa clenched over nothing, and she rolled onto her side and pressed her legs together to stave away the empty air. She listened to the trickle of water running off Lucina’s body as she set to… cleaning herself, probably, though the idea struck Severa as kind of gross, and she didn’t envy any guests who were to use the baths after them. It couldn’t have been as bad as bathing after Risen, she guessed.

She felt Lucina settle beside her, and cracked an eye open.

“Ugh, I’m sorry about—oh Gods, you didn’t clean it off.”

The corner of Lucina’s mouth quirked in a smile, deceptively tranquil but for the flash of tongue, darting out to catch some of the fluid on her upper lip. Severa groaned and sat up, but Lucina didn’t follow her.

“I was hoping you could help me,” Lucina said, and the heat rushed back to Severa’s face. She readjusted her legs carefully, since she still hadn’t quite adjusted to the loosened sensation, and brought a hand around to caress Lucina’s soiled cheek.

“Yeah,” she muttered absently, gathering the moisture up against her fingers before she realized what she was doing, and then sheepishly fumbling for another distraction in Lucina’s breast. At the very least, she was owed a massage, though the muscles underneath the skin were surprisingly pliant, all her power and sinew unfurling beneath Severa with a languid ease, unmarred by whorls of senseless tension. Her breast fit so easily against Severa’s palm, as graceful compact and perfectly formed as the rest of Lucina, and Severa wondered when the old sting of jealousy lost out to adoration. She leaned over Lucina’s reclining form, still sorely conscious of how every movement drew attention to Lucina’s absence.

“Gods know your braids still need practice,” she said, gathering her own hair to sling round the other shoulder. Pursing her lips, she thought the better of ever opening her mouth again, and slunk down to take her place in the blood-warm bathwater.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from http://orgyland.tumblr.com/post/127734886404/on-the-other-hand-i-am-addicted-to-lucisev-i  
> This wasn't even a prompt or request or anything. A very nice anon left a compliment and I just started spewing lesbians at them.


End file.
